“Ben would be elated to have you!”
I quirk my eyebrow, searching Elaine’s face for the lie.
“Right, I will?—”
“Ms. Russell, are you ready?” My advisor, Dr. Winthrop, pokes her head out of her office, surprise flashing across her face when she sees Elaine sitting next to me. “Dr. Bardot! I apologize for interrupting.”
“Not at all, Vivienne. Colette and I were just finishing up. She’s all yours!” She stands, patting me on the shoulder. “See you Sunday, dear.”
She’s gone before I have time to formulate a response.
“Ms. Russell, come on in.” Dr. Winthrop pushes the door open, holding her arm out to welcome me into her office. It’s creepily clean, the books seemingly organized by height versus by topic or author. There’s a singular family photo on her desk that I have to tear my eyes away from because all three of her doll-like kids are eerily similar looking. Same bright blonde hair clipped back with a seersucker bow, same shit-eating grins, same rosy red cheeks. Do they have blush on? They can’t be older than seven?
“Aren’t they sweet? Triplets. Blair, Darcy, and Sutton. They are the light of my life.” Dr. Winthrop’s sickly sweet tone hasalways thrown me off, and it’s positively dripping now. There’s a false sincerity that underlies everything that comes out of her mouth.
When I don’t respond, she continues, getting straight to the point. “Well, I bet you are wondering why I called a meeting today.”
Duh, Vivienne.
“The good news: you were approved to pursue an emphasis in forensic psychology next year.” She taps her pencil three times in rapid succession. “An interesting choice. A loss for the Marriage and Family Therapy department, for sure.”
Dr. Winthrop pauses, as if she’s expecting me to change my mind. When I don’t, she clears her throat. “Right. Unfortunately, there is some bad news.”
My stomach clenches painfully. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours as I wait for her to get on with it.
“Currently, half of your tuition is covered under a scholarship that will no longer be available next semester. The donor planned for it to be an annual donation, but, well, these things change.”
Fuck.Fuck!
There’s a loud buzzing in my brain as I register what Dr. Winthrop just said to me. I had a plan when I moved. Money saved. Enough money to cover my apartment and half of my tuition, the other half covered by this scholarship.Thatwas supposed to carry me through this degree. I can make one more semester work at full tuition, but then what? I’m spiraling quickly, my breaths shortening.
“I am happy to set up an appointment at the Financial Aid Office for you,” Dr. Winthrop continues, seemingly oblivious to my approaching panic attack.
All I can do is nod. Words no longer exist.
“Okay, let me look at their schedule…” She turns toward her desktop, the screen illuminating her face with a blueish glow. “Does next Tuesday work for you? They have an 11:30 appointment available.”
“O-okay.” My voice is feeble and I hate how affected I sound. But this is my life. My future. And it feels like it’s crumbling around me inside of this sterile office, creepy children mocking me from inside the frame.
“Great, it’s booked. You should be getting an email shortly.” She turns back toward me, bright white smile broadening as her eyes dart toward the doorway. “Anything else you need from me, Ms. Russell?”
I suppose that’s my cue. In a haze, I stand, leaving the office without another word. It may be considered rude, but I could not form a coherent sentence if I tried.
I make it exactly twenty seven steps away when my phone dings. Opening up my email, I see two unread messages. The first is from the financial aid office. The second is from Elaine Bardot.
To: Colette Russell ([email protected])
Subject: Meeting Confirmation
This email is to confirm your appointment at the HU Financial Aid Office on…
Swiping out of the message I move on to Elaine’s email.
To: Colette Russell ([email protected])
Subject: Family Dinner!!
Hi Colette!
